


This is How is Happened

by StalineBC



Series: Vulgar Endearments [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Capital Wasteland, F/F, F/M, Later chapters will contain various abuses/rape/etc., Megaton, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StalineBC/pseuds/StalineBC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Janie Santos, and how she met her loyal ghoul man-servant, Charon. And the bits before and after and in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Megaton

Stockholm was bored. Really fucking bored. Not that he wasn't ungrateful for the lack of Raiders to shoot or anything, but absolutely _nothing_ had come into range in a few days. Besides Crazy Wolfgang's caravan, and as much as he'd like to shoot the nut job sometimes, he wasn't allowed to.  
He thought of maybe bouncing a few rounds off Deputy Weld, but remembered how pissed Simms was last time. So he didn't. Instead he stood on the catwalk, being Supremely. Fucking. Bored.  
Just when he was about to head over to the saloon and drink himself into a stupor, he saw a form, limping, coming out of the rock pass near Springvale.  
He grabbed his rifle, fingers twitching close to the trigger. Stockholm figured he probably shouldn't shoot at it until he got a good view. So he waited, heart thundering in his ears. He was sort of wishing it _was_ a raider. He needed some target practice. But when it got close enough, he saw that it was a woman. A very injured woman. Wearing a tattered Vault suit. The second one in a few days. He ran to the other end of the catwalk, calling out for Simms. If this was one like the last, the sheriff would want to know. 

•  
•  
•

Sheriff Lucas Simms was a grim-faced old bastard, but one that truly cared for the welfare of his people and town. He was also compassionate, willing to give just about anyone a chance. And that was the only reason he didn't shoot the broken up punk of a girl in the face on sight.  
Her pink hair was caked with blood, sticking out at all angles. With the fat lip, smeared makeup, busted nose and crumpled leg, she definitely wasn't a looker, and he was expecting the worst.  
But when she looked at him with those big smokey green eyes and spoke, all friendly and polite-like, Lucas decided to revise his previous thoughts. He even escorted her to Doc Church for fixing up.  
She said her name was Jane Santos. Janie to her friends, she added with a coy smile. She also happened to be searching for her father, and wound up in Springvale by accident.  
"And these nasty jerks wearing stupid looking armor were holed up in a... a massive building."  
The Sheriff and Doc Church both chuckled.  
"Those would be Raiders, and an old school, girl. Never seen one before?" The doctor inquired.  
"No, sir. Born and bred in good old Vault 101. I was recently kicked out, though." She straightened and gave a mock salute, "Thank you, dear Overseer!"  
"Well, that explains how you don't know shit about the Wastes." He laughed again.  
"Nope, but I _do_ know enough to recognize a big fucking bomb when I see one. Is it active?"  
"Yup," answered Simms, "been waiting for someone with some explosives know-how to mosey on in." He gave her an appraising look, "You wouldn't happen to be that someone, now would you."  
"Reckon I am, Sheriff." She said, imitating his drawl, "Mr.Brotch might not have been the best math teacher, but he sure knew how to make science fun."  
With a few more details worked out, it was agreed the Vault girl would disarm the town's namesake when she was well enough. Albeit in the cover of dark, just so the fanatics wouldn't find out.  
And so, for the first time in a long time, Sheriff Lucas Simms felt good. Really good. Maybe even a little hopeful. He stopped at the bomb on the way home, and saluted it. Almost like saying goodbye to an old friend. One that managed to overstay it's welcome.

•  
•  
•

Janie ran up the steps towards the Sheriff's house, heart pounding with excitement. She pushed open the door, and as soon as she saw him, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Despite only knowing him for a month or so, given what she had just done, it seemed appropriate.  
He sputtered and pushed her away to arm's length, asking what in the Hell had gotten into her?  
"I did it! It's done! The bomb, I mean!" She could barely contain herself.  
"You disarmed it? It won't explode now?"  
"Well, _probably_ , if you hit it with a rocket or something, but yeah! I did it! Just keep Moira away from it, for the love of Atom! I-I mean God!"  
He pulled her back into an embraced, and _really_ kissed her, hard and slow. It was adrenaline, he told himself. The bomb was done for, the shock of it made his pulse pound.  
But then she kissed back and he couldn't help but grip her hips hard, bringing her closer, realising that this was a release, probably for the both of them.  
Janie groaned against his mouth, tongue delving into his, and he met her ferociously. She knocked his hat to the floor as he tugged at his own jacket. God only knew where this would lead, but at that moment, it felt _right_. Her hands went to his shoulders, shoving the coat down over his broad expanse. He shook it off as her mouth found his neck and bit.  
He gasped through clenched teeth, hands working into her ridiculous hair, pulling her back just to roughly claim those lips again.  
His hands searched desperately for purchase against covered thighs. They pulled a part for a moment, just to try and relieve themselves of more frustrating clothes. She giggled, slowly unzipping her armored Vault suit, trailing a tantalizing finger after every revealed inch of rosy-gold skin.  
He reached for her just before the door creaked. Hardin and Maggie. They broke apart, and tried to straighten themselves.  
"Hey Dad!" The boy called, bounding into the room with Maggie close behind. He stopped dead, seeing their flushed faces, "Um, is everything okay..?"  
Janie blushed deeper, but smiled hugely, "I disarmed the bomb!" She said, voice almost giddy, and bounced on her heels.  
The children's eyes widened. Maggie put a hand over her mouth, and Hardin gasped.  
"When? How?!"  
"About an hour ago, took out the detonater and some other junk." She dug into her pocket, proudly handing him the pieces, "I came up to tell your Daddy first."  
"No way!" He whispered loudly, and took the pieces with heartwarming reverence.  
"Way, kiddo!" Janie's voice dropped into an exaggerated whisper, "But you can't tell the Church, they'll be upset."  
Both kids nodded solemnly, eyes wide with awe.  
"B-but I _need_ to tell Billy!" Maggie squeaked, mouth still covered.  
"Okay, but no one else, deal?"  
"Deal!" Both nearly shouted.  
"Oh, and I have to tell Gob!" Janie exclaimed, leaning to peck Simms on the check with a coy smile, "See you around, Sheriff. Don't forget my reward." She winked, and with that, was gone out the door, leaving thoughts and emotions whirling in his head. He smirked wryly, like a dust storm.

•  
•  
•

The saloon was locked. Odd, she thought, pressing an ear to the door. Out of nowhere came the dulled sounds of a sickening snap and anguished howl. The  thumping sound of flesh being hit followed with whimpers and sobs. Janie ran around to the back, heart racing again. Her hands were shaking so bad, she broke three bobby pins before the lock clicked successfully.  
She bolted inside, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Nova on the floor, Gob right on top of her, trying to shield the woman with his battered body. Moriarty's boot came down swift and hard on the ghoul's braced arm. The crunch was like a scorpion, when you break it open.  
Without a word, she took a whiskey bottle from the shelf. The glass met the bastard's head. She remembered thinking how beautiful the crystal-like shards and rich amber liquid looked as it released ruby droplets from his flesh.  
He shrieked, more with surprise than pain. Rounding on girl with vicious eyes, he wiped the blood from his brow, flicking at her. She didn't flinch. Just stared back with stony, empty eyes. An evil look came into his.  
"Well, lass, did you find dear old daddy yet?"  
Janie grabbed a lead pipe hanging off her belt and swung so swiftly, he didn't know what happened until he fell to the floor and she was on top of him. Her world went blank with rage. The only thing she remembered was someone's ragged breathing.  
'Oh, that's me.' She thought, when she became aware again. Her chest heaved, and she barely threw her head to the side in time. Bile spewed, she choked and sputtered. Janie wiped her mouth on a bloody arm. When she looked back at the body, it was with a chilling sort of detachment and morbid admiration.  
Colin Moriarty was a piece of shit in life. Now in death he was a piece of grotesque art. Startling white shards poked through glistening pinks and reds. Crushed teeth littered his jaw, a grisly grin that almost matched her own in emotion. His hair though, that was the best part. Some of it stuck to the ruined face, but mostly it was fanned out around him. Brilliant red streaking glorious white, glowing in the fading light. A halo.  
She stood, suddenly aware of how tired she was. Janie turned to see Nova and Gob, huddled in the corner bathroom.  
Her exhaustion vanished immediately as she bounded for them, dropping a lead pipe she didn't remember holding.  
"Are you guys okay?"  
"Smoothskin... are _you_ okay?" Gob whispered.  
It was then that everything dawned on her.  
"Oh Christ. Oh my... Jesus fucking Christ." Bile threatened to rise again, "I-I have to go."  
Gob nodded, "A month. Maybe two."  
"But fucking where?!" Their eyes met and her lips twitched at the unspoken joke. He sighed, she was going to be okay.  
"Underworld." Nova said suddenly, breaking the link between the two.  
Milky eyes lit up, "Mom lives there. Carol. I have a letter, you bring it, you'll be safe."  
"Just so we're clear, I'd have brought it away, but the whole 'safe' bit _really_ sold me. Thanks."  
Gob snorted, taking the stairs two at a time, "Yeah, well... you're welcome."  
"No problem. Sorry about the mess. Keep the doors locked and I'll help clean up." She turned to Nova, "I don't remember shit. What happened? Tell me everything, please?"  
And she did, starting with the way the Vaultie grabbed Moriarty by the beard as soon as he closed his mouth. Janie then took the broken bottle she was holding, and stabbed him in the throat and neck with it. And then there was the pipe. Repeatedly. A little _too_ repeatedly.  
"Yup. Gotcha. I lost my shit." She groaned. "I said I was sorry. Didn't mean to. It's over and done with. Can we _move on_?"  
"Look, it's not that I'm not exactly grateful. It's just that you turned my former boss into pudding. It kind of makes a gal question your sanity."  
"Nova, why was he beating you guys?"  
"Because I didn't want to go with the Stahl boys, again."  
"Like, what? You mean... both of them? At the same time? Like-"  
"No, they make me sit and play tea and princess with them. For fuck's sake, kid!"  
"Okay, no worries. Good reason, either way. Leo's a handsy prick. And Gob?  
"Tried to protect me." And he really had, as when Nova said no to the boy's, Moriarty lost it, "It was the second time I said no. He didn't like that." He kicked everyone out, bolted the spot up tight, and then went after the whore. He grabbed her by the throat, and slapped her _hard_. She saw stars, and braced herself on the bar. He hands gripped her hair, twisting cruelly.  
_"You don't get to choose."_  
He struck her head off the counter, and kneed her in the groin. Nova crumpled to the floor. It was then that Gob came down from cleaning the rooms. He saw her on the floor, Moriarty above her, and then red. The next thing _he_ remembered was a pipe coming across his arm. The snap sent him reeling. He threw himself across Nova as the bastard aimed a kick for her stomach. And then there was Janie soon after.  
"Oh. What did _I_ do?"  
"Well, after the whole throat thing, you pounded his head into a fine paste." The woman deadpanned.  
"I see. Well, at least he's taken care of. Here's seven stimpacks and some Med-X. And some Abraxo for-" she waved a hand towards the 'mess', "I am sorry, I think..."  
"I'm sorry, too. But thank you. Now help me move the body."  
By the time the women had moved the corpse to the back room, Gob reapeared with two buckets of water, rags and the letter tucked firmly under his arm. They cleaned in silence. There really wasn't anything left to say. She prepared quickly, washing and packing in record time. Janie waited until nightfall to leave, thanking her lucky stars that Moira had given her some stealthboys a few days prior. After some quick, and on Nova's part, _cautious_ hugs, they said their goodbyes, and she was gone.

•  
•  
•


	2. Watching

There was a Smoothskin in Underworld. That in itself wasn't extremely unusual. A few would wander in from time to time, to rest, recuperate or trade. They would be 'civil', some even not outright offensive. None of them would _look_ at you, or if they did they just couldn't hide their disgust.  
But here was this lovely young lady making starry eyes, wide with awe, as Carol told little snippets of her life pre-war.  
Touching was another supreme rarity. And yet this soft, perfect hand found her old, ruined one, squeezing in comfort as she spoke of _Gob_ , who works in a bar now! Imagine that!  
"Greta! Isn't that wonderful?"  
"Yeah, yeah, fantastic."  
Carol rolled her eyes at her partner, but turned again as the Vault girl let go of her hand.  
"Oh, honey! I didn't get your name."  
"It's Janie, sorry." she said, glancing up from her pack, "I have a letter from him... Somewhere in here." The girl chuckled apologetically.  
The older woman waved a dismissive hand, "Dont worry about that right now, sweetie. It's late, and you must be hungry! Greta, make something quick for the poor child, please!" Carol had her ushered in behind the counter and seated before Janie could say no, "And don't you worry about finding a bed for the night. You can have the queen in the corner room, and breakfast on the house." Every protest was silenced by her unexpectedly authoritative, yet still motherly, voice.  
"Yes, Ma'am." came the meek consent, but it made Gob's Mother smile beautifully. The thought of sleeping in a real bed for the first time in weeks was near intoxicating. "And maybe some water? To wash with?"  
The older woman patted her head like a puppy, and went about readying the room.

•  
•  
•

Charon watched the smokey haze whirl and twist as the door to The Ninth Circle opened slowly. He was expecting the sweet, little Smoothskin everyone was talking about. What a lovely young lady, Carol repeated to anyone who would ask. And what an annoying brat, whispered Greta to everyone she could.  
He had imagined a pale, fat weakling, not unlike a maggot in his mind. Probably filthy and bedraggled, maybe even terrified. He had met a few escaped Vaulties in his time, and none had ever impressed him. None had ever lasted long enough to do so. But when the door opened fully to reveal her, he was momentarily shocked.  
She looked more like a raider than a pampered little Vault girl. Hair cropped close to the sides, but unruly long and candy pink on top, black roots showing. She wasn't fat, but looked healthier than most out here were. Copper skin over lean muscle, softly rounded on her hips and chest. Her nose was slightly crooked, like it was broken and not set right.  
He didn't dismiss her, but deemed her less of a threat than the drunk about to lob a bottle at Winthrope's head. In two swift strides, he had grabbed the ghoul by the collar, punched him a couple times, and threw him out the other door before the girl had even noticed him. But when she did, her eyes lit up, like green fireflies.  
"You must be the infamous Charon." Her voice was so... squeaky. Like a rubber duck, only even more annoying, "I've heard an awful lot about you, Big Guy."  
"Talk to Ahzrukhal."  
"Can do, Mister. I'm Janie, by the way."  
"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal." he said again, through gritted teeth.  
"You're the boss." She mock-saluted him, and sauntered to the bar.  
After that, she mostly left him alone. She didn't, however completely leave, though. Sure, she'd take off for a few weeks at a time, doing some errand or another, but she'd always find her way back.  
The Vaultie would pop in to do a bit of trading, grab a beer and take a seat next to him. Sometimes she'd clean or tinker with her guns, sometimes she'd read. Sometimes she'd even bring over some food from Carol's, always offering him a bite. And he'd always ignore it.  
He would watch as Quinn or Winthrope made eyes at her and flirt, grimacing at how bad they were at it. He would watch as she and Willow knocked back shots, laughing loudly at filthy jokes and red faces. He would watch as Ahzrukal's eyes followed her every move, lusty and depraved. It made his stomach churn every time, and he found himself watching her even more closely.  
Most importantly, he would watch _her_ watching _him_. Their eyes would meet, she would blush, he would go stiff, in more ways than one, and both would look away quickly, hoping no one had noticed. And, thankfully, no one did.


	3. A Deal

Janie decided she liked Underworld, as she sat contentedly nursing a beer. She was seated at the table nearest to Charon, her back turned from him, so she could prop her feet on the opposite chair while she was reading.  
She truly did like the place, despite the dank smell and the staring, which neither were all that bad, once you got used to them. The people were courteous, friendly even. They were just cautious, fearful of any newcomers that didn't sport a matching skin and raspy voice.  
It was _justified_ , Janie told herself as she tired to ignore the angry glare and harsh mumbling from a rather ragged-looking ghoulette that just walked into The Ninth Circle.  
These people were shunned, outcast by friend and foe alike. In many cases they were openly persecuted and discriminated against.  
That still didn't stop her from imagining the satisfaction of punching the lady in the face. Or the rippling warm thought of maybe shooting the sleazy-ass barkeep in the foot. A small smirk tugged at her lips, which made the ghoul woman scowl even deeper. Again, Janie ignored it, opting instead for another sip of beer.  
"Hey, Smoothskin, you're in my spot."  
The girl glanced up from the book she was trying to read. The woman was clearly already drunk and/or high. Besides, Janie wasn't exactly in the mood to do bloody laundry. She fixed the woman with an innocent look, smiling sweetly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know they reserved tables here."  
The ghoulette's eyes hardened, and she shoved Janie's feet off the chair, "I wouldn't expect a Smoothskin to know what's what here."  
"Look, I'm just here to enjoy my drink and read-"  
"Charon!" barked Ahzrukhal, cutting her off and coming out from behind the counter. Janie wasn't aware it was an order until the massive ghoul behind her grabbed the other woman by the arm with a sickening crunch.  
"Now you know how much I hate the mess my employee makes, so why don't you just take a seat somewhere else and leave this young lady alone? I'd hate to lose another valuable paying customer." The sleasebag said, mock regret dripping from his words.  
"S-sure thing, Ahzrukhal. Wha-whatever you say." The ghoulette stuttered, teeth chattering with poorly concealed pain.  
Charon released her and returned to his post, silent as death, like nothing happened.  
The bartender approached Janie, smiling that dirtbag smile he usually wore plastered to his rotten face, "I hope you weren't upset by that little display. Sometimes a man has to show a little muscle to get things resolved around here."  
"Please, it'll take more than a bouncer doing his job to make me break a sweat." She waved him off, but he took the seat across from her.  
"Yes, I can see that. I bet it takes a lot of hard work to get you sweating." He chuckled at his own innuendo, while Janie tried to keep her skin from crawling.  
"So that's the only reason you keep him around?" She cocked her head towards the massive ghoul, "To scare off the bums?"  
"Not the only reason, no. He has other _uses_ , both violent and mundane. Quite the hot commodity with the lady ghouls, and some of the men."  
Janie tried to school her expression into indifference, but judging from the smirk he gave her, she had failed and he had misread it.  
"Interested are you?"  
"Not exactly..."  
"I'm sure we could arrange something. Since it would be your first time with him, how about two hundred caps?"  
"Sorry, no. I don't pay for sex."  
"Well," he placed a hand on her knee, "I'm sure _we_ could work something out. No charge, of course."  
She fought the urge to grab it and break each finger. So instead, she giggled, a girlish sound, and leaned toward him, pink hair flipping down over one eye.  
"I'm sure we could come to some arrangement, but what I'm looking for is a body guard, so to speak. Someone to watch my back out there." She scooted closer, and leaned more, making her cleavage that more prominent, "You wouldn't be interested in letting him go, would you? To keep little helpless me safe from the big baddies?"  
His eyes trailed from her own, to her plump lips, and then down again, to her breasts, darting up again quickly. "Well, I could. Possibly. For a _price_."  
"Of course, but how about another drink first?" Her stomach knotted with what she was implying, what she was about to do, but she mastered her features again, and gave him a look. Her eyes flashed midnight green in the dim light, and she knew when his locked on hers, she had him. Ahzrukhal stood abruptly, knocking the table a little.  
"Everyone! Pay up and get out!" He shouted. With some startled glances at him, and more equally fearful glances at Charon, they did.  
When the Ninth Circle was finally empty, he strode over to the bar and poured them a couple glasses of wine, the best he had.

•  
•  
•

Charon was confused. First Ahzrukal and the girl were chatting about his contract, and he was hoping against hope that she could buy it. But then the conversation turned from caps to something else entirely. He couldn't believe what this girl was about to do to try and purchase him. And now they were cozied up close at the bar, how fucking lovely.  
He had no idea what the fuck the little Smoothskin was up to. The way his employer was acting towards her, lecherousÂ and near-perverted, was sickening to watch. She obviously understood what Ahzrukhal wanted, yet wasn't outwardly disgusted, or repulsed, even when the bastard laid his scuzzy hand on her hip and squeezed. She didn't push or shy away.  
But Charon had been observing her for months now, and prided himself in knowing body language, especially when someone was trying to hide it. The Vault girl looked cool and calm on the outside, maybe even like she was enjoying it. On the inside, however... He would have bet she'd have decked him out if he were any other guy in any other bar.  
Ahzrukhal leaned in against her neck, breathing in, and nudged her back against the bar, arms on either side of her. He brought one hand up, pulling down the zipper of her vest, and smiled as she murmured something into where his ear used to be.  
"Well, baby, you can trust me." He rasped, chuckling.  
She grinned, biting her lip, and reached between them. Charon heard the sound of a belt being undone. He wanted to look away, but couldn't. He watched as the girl pulled the belt away, then purred something else in the slimy bastard's ear hole as her hands tugged her vest off. She pushed him off a little, just to slip out of the it and pull her tank top down, exposing her dingy bra. Pale bronze breasts swelled against the cups, full and round.  
A choked noise came from Ahzrukhal, making to grab for them, but she stopped him, hands covering herself, and she smiled wickedly.  
"First things first. I want the contract before we go any further."  
The asshole's eyes narrowed, "No dice."  
"Aw, what's wrong? Afraid I'll welch?"  
"Lady, if I were, you wouldn't be here." His voice was cold, but still heavy with lust.  
Janie pouted, yet still had an evil gleam in her eyes. She pulled both cups down slowly, wine-colored nipples stiffening as they were exposed. "One piece of paper, and these..." She pinched them roughly between her fingers, moaning softly.  
Ahzrukhal tried to grab for her again, but shook her head, tongue flicking across her lips. He growled, running a hand across his scabby face. He stared hard at the girl, then went to the safe none the less.  
Janie's eyes met Charon's, and this time he did look away, heat rising in their faces. She was really going to do it. Fuck the evil bastard to just for his contract. He could hardly believe it.  
Ahzrukhal came back, adjusting his pants, and then handed her the tiny slip of worn paper. She smiled beautifully, and kissed him. Actually kissed him full on the lips. His arms when around her, grinding his hips into her's.  
"Just once sec." she said breaking away, and motioned towards Charon, "I'm not exactly into having an audience." His ex-employer uttered another growled oath, but conceded.  
Janie tugged her bra up again, walking towards the massive ghoul.  
"Hey, Big Guy, guess what I have!" She giggled again, face flushed.  
"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know." His face was blank, but Janie swore relief flashed briefly in his eyes. "Please, wait here. I must take care of something." He pushed past her, stalking towards the sleazy prick. "Ahzrukhal, I am told I am no longer in your service."  
"That's right, Charon." He grinned, eyes darting lewdly at the girl, "Have you come to say goodbye?"  
"Yes."  
And with that, the ex-'bouncer' pulled his shotgun from his back, and blew the skeezy head away. He pulled the trigger once more, just for old time's sake, and reholstered it.  
Janie stood in a daze, staring as the body oozed thick blood. The fucker landed on her vest.  
"Alright, let's go." Her new bodyguard said with complete nonchalance.  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What. The. Fuck. Was. That?!"  
"Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard. So long as he held my contract, I was honor-bound to do as he commanded." He gave her a calculating look, "But now you are my employer, which freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat. And now, for good or ill, I serve you."  
"Oh. Well. Since you put it that way..." She glanced back at the body, "Any chance you might do the same to me some day?"  
"Not if you don't give me a reason."  
She laughed, pulled her top back into place, and held out a hand, "I'll try not to. Deal?"  
"Deal." He took it and shook, trying not to think about how warm it was in his, or picture the way he saw her literally five minutes ago. He cocked his head towards the ruined remains, "Are you going to loot him, or shall I?"  
"You can, if you wanna. I gotta get cleaned up. His blood stinks." She practically bounced to the doors.  
"Will you require your vest?" Asked Charon, nudging the garment in question with a boot.  
"How soaked is it?"  
"Very."  
She grimaced, "Leave it. I'll get a new one. Come over to Carol's when your done. I've got the corner room. And I'll make sure there's some clean water left for you to wash up, too. Thanks!" With that, she was gone. He stared after her, and shook his head. This could prove to be interesting. Or fatal. Probably both. For the first time in a long time, he smiled, and went to work.


End file.
